


Chameleon Response

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Invisibility, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, PSA Draco is invisible like the entire time, Porn With Plot, Potions Accident, Ridikkulus Fest 2019, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Author Regrets Nothing, awkward everything, but its okay, did i have fun writing this, except procrastinating, here to save the day, i am complete trash, interrupted shower, slightly questionable behaviour, you know that that means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 03:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18130187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: Written for Riddikulus Fest 2019: Prompt H1 by Frumpologist; Accidental invisibility-any pairing (Dramione)After an unfortunate potions mishap, Draco Malfoy develops a chameleon-like response to adrenalin; Invisibility.Told in no uncertain terms that an antidote would take at least a week to brew, he barely manages to go two days before he colossally ruins his working relationship with counterpart Head Girl, Hermione Granger (in other words, it's ruined for the best of reasons).





	Chameleon Response

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, a few things before we get started :) 
> 
> 1\. Thank you for taking the time to give this a read; I hope you enjoy it :) 
> 
> 2\. Huge thanks to the organisers for setting this up. you are all amazing and super duper appreciated for all the hard work you do :) 
> 
> 3\. Thanks to Frumpologist for the prompt, I loved it so, so much :)
> 
> 4\. I'd also like to point out that this might come off as being a little dubious, but please be aware that it is fully resolved with some very enthusiastic consent- I'm going for awkward, _not_ pervy, which is why I chose not to tag it as such.
> 
> Happy reading :)

 

oOo

Something hinky was going on that much was certain.

The first time it happened had been after a particularly harrowing detention in the Forbidden Forest.

One wrong ingredient, a small explosion later (which he took the brunt of), and he was sent out with Pansy to collect the midnight blossoms Professor Slughorn needed for their next potions lesson.

He’d startled on the way back to the castle, the sound of a car horn echoing in the darkness, causing his breath to hitch and his heart to race; and just like that, he was invisible.

 

oOo

After a lengthy visit with the Potions Master, Madam Pomfrey and tests galore, it was determined an antidote would take at least a week. During which time he was to avoid any and all possible emotional triggers.

Half a day in and he had disappeared a total of eight times; you try staying calm in a school where danger is constantly just around the corner.

Day one and he had a rather unfortunate run-in with a boggart in the Slytherin Quidditch storage cupboard. It took an hour to turn himself visible again

A loud bang in charms threw him back into fight or flight and he was glad no one could see the tears tracking down his face as memories of the war rose unbidden in his mind.

One small slip on his way to arithmancy and he was stuck weaving unseen through heavy foot traffic; at least Vector couldn’t see him showing up late.

Day two and it was more of the same;

Anything that made his heart race triggered a chameleon-like response and seconds later he would shimmer out of existence, going completely transparent.

A close call with a bludger during quidditch practice saw his entire team erupting into raucous giggles at the sight of a seemingly riderless broom.

Care of magical creatures was an endless cycle of appearing and disappearing into thin air. His first sight of a thestral nearly scared him half to death and that damn vicious book almost took off a finger to boot.

He didn’t fare much better in herbology. Perhaps it was just bad luck some bloody klutz (who else could it have been but Longbottom) knocked over a potted baby mandrake and sent half the class into a fainting frenzy, triggering Draco yet again.

And to top it all off Peeves had to put in his two cents worth. Though detailing why that interaction had caused another ‘episode’ was simply too humiliating to consider.

 

oOo

Two days in and he was rightfully exhausted. His condition only seemed to get worse, exacerbated by a rather annoying, instinctual hormone called adrenalin; the littlest things turned him transparent at the drop of a hat. To say he was frustrated would be the understatement of the century.

Most of his friends were quickly aware of his misfortune, but there was one person who had somehow managed to miss the news of his involuntary disappearing act (and likely wouldn't believe him if he told her). Probably had her nose wedged too deeply in the spine of a book to notice. Perhaps if she had, he might have been saved a lifetime’s worth of blackmail material and humiliation.

 

oOo

It happened Friday afternoon, right after arithmancy let out. He was headed back to his rather comfortable lodgings in the Head’s dormitories when the air in the empty hall around him turned heavy with anticipation. Something was coming, he just didn’t know what; and of course, to his considerable annoyance, the slightest spike of anxiety set off his condition.

People passed him by in the usual manner; he was prickly on his best day, like a thicket of nettles, most of his peers were wise enough to keep their distance. But the second he disappeared, he was buffeted down the corridor, bouncing between groups as the throng slowly tapered down to the last stragglers.

He dragged his feet the rest of the way, miserable and only pitying himself a little (no mean feat for someone known to be prone to whinging). However, he perked up at the prospect of reaching the entry portrait. Aesop’s Lion and the Mouse always knew how to cheer him up, despite their rocky beginnings.

The creatures usually greeted him with some form of small talk or other, unless of course, they had been privy to certain ‘discussions’ (an understated way of saying the heads had quarrelled again), then they tended to give the cold shoulder to the more obnoxious of the pair; put simply, it was never Hermione Granger the unlikely, painted duo turned their noses up at.

Their dorm guardians often became temperamental when they caught them arguing and both students had spent more than one night sleeping at the foot of the portrait when pride hadn’t allowed apologies for harsh things said; the portraits certainly took their roles as mediators seriously.

Rightly so.

At the beginning of the year, the atmosphere between them had been frightful; forced to share a living space with the one person on earth with more right to hate him than anyone else. He often wondered what McGonagall had been thinking; personally, he enjoyed imagining her quite drunk at the time, looking mischievous and amused with her selection of the Slytherin Prince and Gryffindor’s Golden Girl to lead the cohort.

After their first week together, he was certain the Headmistress had to be feeling a twinge of regret. It had literally been explosive; they destroyed half the kitchenette and splintered the dining table.

At least the furniture fared better in the second week, the same could not be said for his wand. A well-timed Anaticula forced him to produce extremely cuddly looking ducklings each time he attempted a spell, to his mortification.

He got his own back in the third week with a secretive Amitteo and took great pleasure in watching her misplace object after object, as he continued to cast it on her throughout the day.

After the fight that ensued, they had both been forced to call an armistice and what had once been petty, vindictive disagreements quickly morphed into intelligent debates and deep conversations (though they were both still partial to testing the odd inconvenient spell on one another). After a few months of peace, one might even endeavour to label them as friends.

Therefore, approaching their portrait entrance was a much kinder experience, considering they had been on such good terms. They always had advice to offer or a quick-witted line for him to roll his eyes at but secretly enjoy.

It also seemed they were wise enough to guess the reason for his change in behaviour and mood.

After six months of working together, half the damn school knew.

Almost everyone, except Hermione Jean Granger, was aware of the fact he had lit and continued to carry a torch for her.

He wasn’t sure when it all changed, perhaps somewhere between her putting one of Weasley’s concoctions in his shampoo, turning his hair a magnificent shade of orange; or curling up next to him on the couch in front of the fire with a book, after he refused to budge up on a particularly chilly night in their tower. That was the day he discovered having her close was better than any warm spot, so he continued to crowd her whenever he had similar chances.

Maybe it was the fact that he simply spent so much time trying to figure out why he disliked her as a boy, he realised as a man he felt quite the opposite.

Seven months in and Draco Malfoy was living in hell, for reasons he could neither admit nor deny. He was much too afraid of her to ever own up to his feelings and noticeable enough around his friends, there was little point pretending he wasn’t completely and utterly enamoured with his counterpart.

As painfully obvious as he could be, no one understood the situation better than the guardians of their dorm. They were privy to everything, and terrible snoops to boot; always up for a bit of fresh gossip and not beneath colluding with the internal portraits to get their fix.

Draco glared at them, hoping for acknowledgement despite knowing it wouldn’t come. It wasn’t the first time he had attempted to enter while invisible; as it turned out they were real sticklers for the rules, unwilling to allow him entry without verifying the face matched the voice.

Feeling defeated, he slumped down against the nearest wall, resigned to wait for Hermione to return from another late night of studying. Picking at his nails until his chin dropped to his chest and his eyelids involuntarily slid shut.

When he finally returned to consciousness it felt like providence. The sconces were lit, and the hall was bathed in a warm glow, the only interruption a highly recognisable shadow breezing up the stairs, curls bouncing with each bounding step. His heart pounded in his chest at the sight of her, and if he had been visible before he was decidedly the opposite now.

He scrambled to his feet, preparing to greet her, and she walked right past him without so much as a nod.

In the time it took for her to exchange pleasantries with the mouse (the lion was of course napping) and give the password, ‘Vincit qui se vincit’ (He Conquers Who Conquers Himself), he managed to startle her so badly she dropped her books, scattering them all over the flagstones, giving her enough time to scold him properly before marching inside. Evidently, it had not been a good day and she seemed to be under the impression he was attempting to prank her.

Honestly, she had to be the most unobservant person in history. Her mere presence caused the vast majority of his spontaneous episodes of transparency.

Smiling slyly to himself at the thought of a little light sleuthing, Draco followed Hermione into their common room only to hear her grumbling and mumbling about the Weasel.

He knew better than to question her when she was in such a state and so, quickly diverted his course, heading for his room with a quick and measured step.

After grabbing a fresh set of pyjamas, he checked on her, ensuring she was occupied in her room with a book and a steaming mug of tea, before tiptoeing down the hall to the shared bathroom.

He pointlessly pulled his razor out of the cabinet and enjoyed the novelty of watching it float seemingly of its own volition. Magic or no, it was still fun. Unfortunately, until he became visible again it was useless. He was completely translucent and unable to do the simplest things; like check the state of his hair; a real travesty.

He quickly concluded a hot shower might do the trick to soothe his nerves and restore him to his usual state. Being in any sort of proximity with Hermione Granger tended to make him feel like a livewire, crush or no, he likely would have ended up right where he was, but that didn’t mean it was any less of a hindrance.

He stripped off without thinking, his clothes reappearing in the order he discarded them, while he remained transparent. Stepping into the steaming spray, he lost all sense of purpose or place, letting himself be carried away, his anxiety trailing down the drain while he considered how much mischief he could manage the next time he found himself invisible. Messing with Blaise and Theo was too good an opportunity to pass up, no matter the situation.

He didn’t get time to ponder it further. Through the door came her all too familiar voice.

“Uuugh, that idiot left the god damn shower on…”

The spring in the door handle was as loud as it had ever been as she pressed it down. The door swung open and Draco immediately realised his fatal mistake. He forgot to lock the door.

He stupidly scrambled to cover up and realised he would only be making things worse; a floating loofah would be a dead giveaway. He was completely and utterly trapped, no chance of a clean escape with her standing there in nothing but her fluffy bathrobe, eyeing his rumpled clothes with a disdainful eye.

It was in that moment his brain switched all rational thought off.

He almost called out when she carelessly kicked them aside but instead bit back the alert on the tip of his tongue. He needed to think, needed to find an out and quick; before she started to…

Never mind…

“Too bad if he comes back”

Uh oh.

Her bathrobe slipped to the floor and if his brain had a modicum of coherency before, it was out the window and halfway to the forest by now.

His entire body turned rigid with fear and he didn’t dare breathe in case it gave away his position. There was simply no explaining his way out of this and she wouldn’t be likely to pause and listen.

Damn her completely unobservant nature.

If Hermione caught him, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting his hands on an antidote to correct his little potions mishap, Filch would be mopping him off the floor.

He had to stop her, the question was, how?

It would be futile to yell, provided he could even produce a sound, worse if he moved (after all he was already naked and still very capable of touch), short of writing in the fog on the mirror, provided he could slip past her undetected, there was little he could do.

He pressed a hand to his cheek, trying to curb the burning blush spreading over his skin. He silently thanked Merlin she couldn’t see it, uncovered like this it was a dead giveaway of another physical reaction occurring at the sight of her completely starkers. It was the perfect example of a dream turned nightmare.

Sweet Circe! He needed to stop staring. It took more effort than he wanted to admit, tearing his eyes away from her lithe form, but he managed; clapping a hand over his eyes and sidling back into the furthermost corner of the shower cubicle with a prayer she wouldn’t bump into him.

Draco curled in on himself in an attempt to avoid contact, making himself as small as possible; he was simply in too deep to reveal he was trapped there with her; had been since she walked in and he lost all capacity to form sentences or words for that matter.

He had never loathed himself more, he wasn’t actively trying. Once a coward, always a coward, never brave when it counted most. Therefore, karma saw fit to punish him in the most spectacular of ways.

All it took was a slippery bottle of half empty conditioner to change his life completely.

In a vain attempt to get the last of the product out; he heard her shake the bottle, a profanity or two slipping by as it refused to budge.

A shrill squeak and he knew she had dropped it, her huff of annoyance preceding the sound of plastic bouncing and spinning on the tile.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

She bent to pick it up and reached to steady herself on the wall, but instead of finding cold tile, her hand met flesh; his thigh to be exact. High enough to make him shudder and throw his head back with a barely stifled groan, his eyes flying open in shock as his hand dropped to his mouth, too late to help him bite back the noise.

However, he couldn’t suppress his ensuing yelp when she pawed her way up to his hip (fortunately, missing anything important), confirming there was a body in there with her, and immediately discovered an entirely new level of blush. His whole body burned scarlet with shame...

Meanwhile, Hermione looked bewildered, like she wasn’t sure why she was screaming; when she finished, he wondered if it was the first time she had ever been stunned into silence, it would make perfect sense.

When she didn’t immediately resort to violence at his intrusion, he decided it would be prudent to wait for her mind to catch up before attempting an explanation.

It took her a solid minute to regain her composure, during which time Draco practically experienced the full spectrum of emotions; it annoyed him that he seemed to be stuck on panic, like a scratched record repeating the same phrase over and over. He wouldn’t be opaque any time soon if it kept up.

The second she regained her senses she jumped out of the shower like she’d been scalded; it was an almost comical delayed reaction and it took everything he had not to laugh at the dripping, bedraggled look she was managed to pull off.

What else could he do but find humour in the situation?

“For what it’s worth, I’m really fucking sorry.”

“Draco!?”

“Um, yes?”

“What the fuck… How in the…Where the fuck are you?”

She reached back in, waving her hands in an attempt to gauge his location, clearly having forgotten that he was appropriately undressed for the occasion.

“I’m right here Hermione, but you might want to—bloody hell! Stop that!” her left hand brushed across his midsection making him twitch with want. “You’re not going to like what you find if you keep feeling around in here.”

In an instant, her eyes widened, and reality sank in.

“OH MY GOD! DRACO! WHY?”

“It’s not like it’s my fault!”

“Buh-but I thought you weren’t in here…”

“In-vis-i-ble.”

She paused to shoot him a sarcastic look and he chuckled as she tried to find her bearings.

“Who in their right mind showers with a disillusionment spell on them?”

“I’m not dis-, okay this is just… I can’t think with you like that. It’s rather distracting you know.”

She glanced down and he winced, only her hands didn’t exactly fly to cover herself up. She settled them on her hips, shifting her weight to one side with a coy expression that terrified him more than anything prior. Anger he could understand, indignation, horror, embarrassment; this looked like unadulterated pride… Actually, it looked like hunger.

“What? Is this bothering you?” she gestured to her rather spectacular naked form and he practically swooned.

“Yes, Merlin yes, it’s _bothering_ me.”

“Huh, not quite what I imagined you saying if you ever saw me naked.”

It was his turn to stutter.

“I-I, y-you what? I beg your pardon...”

She smirked at him and Circe if it wasn’t the most sublime expression he’d ever seen in his life; she pulled it off better than he did. He almost fainted when she stepped back into the shower with him.

He could see her intent before she acted it out, only this time he didn’t flinch. Her hands followed the wall to the corner he had tucked himself into and came to rest over his heart (which coincidentally had picked up considerable speed in the last few seconds).

“Hermione?” He used her name as a shield, a warning and a hopeful question all at once.

She stepped closer and he gulped, holding his breath while he waited for her answer.

“Also not how I imagined shagging you for the first time either, but I think we can make do.”

She surged up and crushed her lips against his, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him in. He tried to bolster his defences, why, he wasn’t sure; fortunately, she was relentless, and her lips were oh so pliant… And soft, god help him they were so wonderfully supple he couldn’t resist giving in.

The little moan she graced him with when he nipped at the swell of her lower lip was nothing short of triumphant. His hands found their way up and into her hair, threading through her wet tresses as he attempted to keep her close.

She was fumbling with something behind her and when the water suddenly ran cold, they sprang apart, shivering, panting and perhaps a little surprised by their own merging passion.

She still couldn’t see him, but he had to admit she had an excellent sense of direction. Finding his hand on the first try before tugging him out of the shower. He followed her down the hall, turning left instead of right; beelining for her bedroom with his wrist locked in her tight grip.

It was a glorious view.

She stopped him at the door and he gladly paid the cover charge, letting her pin him against the door, peppering kisses over the curve of her shoulder, up her throat, to her lips where he lingered until they were red and slightly swollen.

“Fuck, I’ve thought about this for so long.”

She hummed in agreement, a lovely low sound that made his insides turn to jelly as her hands wandered lower, sliding over bare skin, mapping what she couldn’t see.

“You’ve thought about turning yourself completely invisible, scaring the daylights out of me in the shower and ravishing me against a door? That’s weirdly specific.”

He grinned into the crook of her neck, enjoying the fact the atmosphere was light-hearted; the pleasantly polar opposite of what he expected.

“I could always ravish you somewhere else.”

“Mmh, you could. I think the bed is rather a good idea, don’t you.”

“Oh—” He pulled her flush against him and ducked his head to kiss over her sternum, revelling in her tiny gasp coming into contact with the evidence of his arousal “—Most definitely.”

He opened the door and stumbled inside in a haze of lust and anticipation. He let her lead, understanding that taking over while completely invisible might be jarring; Hermione seemed to take it as an opportunity to explore, not that he was complaining, it was a miracle it was even happening.

She pushed him and he pulled her, falling onto her covers with matching huffs and giggles as their bodies tangled, drops of water aiding them further. Her hands searched his face, a quiet, tender moment between them, her lips following her touch as she framed him with her fingers.

He responded by slipping his own between her slick folds, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

“I wish I could see you.”

“Do you want to wait? Slughorn said he’d have an antidote ready next week.”

“Antidote?”

“Yeah, I had a minor mishap in potions, learned my lesson about the importance of double-checking ingredients.”

She snorted with laughter and rolled her eyes, rocking her hips against him to tease him both ways.

“Rookie mistake Malfoy, I think you need a better partner.”

He met her eyes and knew she could feel the connection between them, even if she couldn’t see him; her true meaning was clear as day, written all over her face.

“Are you offering? Because if you are, I wouldn't be opposed at all.”

Her relief was palpable, she relaxed into him and Draco celebrated the progress.

“Draco, I don’t want to wait… Besides, I might go mad if you stop right now.”

He was anything if obliging, redoubling his efforts, she squirmed over him and when he slipped inside her to press against her g spot she moaned lewdly. It was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard in his life.

He’d thought about the sounds she might make, living with someone as animated as her, it was hard to miss the way she sounded going about her day; the little gasp when she ate something delicious, the contented sigh that accompanied a perfect cup of tea; and now he was privy to her most intimate sounds, a rare miraculous thing that managed to both match his imagination and surprise him simultaneously.

When he flipped them, pressing her into the mattress with his weight, kissing his way down her body she wriggled, not with discomfort, but a desperate need for less teasing and more everything, she mewled. Finally reaching his destination after pressing teasing kisses along her calves and inner thighs, his tongue seeking the right patter she sobbed, body bowing and arching to get him closer, her hands fisted tightly in his hair.

He wanted to hear it all.

When she came, his lips and tongue working her through her first orgasm, she screamed his name; it was the most sensual, erotic moment of his life, bar none.

Blissed out and hopefully only partially satiated, she was radiant. Legs splayed and skin flushed a lovely shade of rose, he crawled up her body, settling in the cradle of her hips, not moving just waiting for her breathing to even out and brain function to return.

His heart beat a prideful tattoo in his chest at having done that to her. Little did he know hers synced with his as she trailed down his torso to take his hard length in her hands.

He melted into her touch, malleable and heightened as she stroked him. She took her turn with little ceremony, he liked it that way; she was ever the pragmatist. Pressed back against her headboard, she felt her way around his body and he understood why; she was charting them a course to completion.

Rising up on her knees, she notched him at her entrance and sank down torturously slow. Sparks danced across his vision when she finally took all of him and they rocked together, not quite kissing, just needing to be close, they breathed in unison as they chased their climaxes, catching moans and sighs with every shift in angle or roll of hips.

He whispered to her the entire time, stupid sweet nothings, confessions, encouragements; if she couldn’t see his admiration and adoration, then he would damn well make sure she heard it. But for every part of himself he gave, she returned.

By the time Hermione announced breathlessly that she was close, their shared truths were comfortably on display. She’d wanted him for almost as long as he had, he joked about the fact she was completely oblivious, and she revealed that she was not as unobservant as he thought. Finding out her habit of parading around in shorts and camisoles was entirely to make him notice, was quite the highlight.

A moment later they were chuckling together in the otherwise still darkness of her room while they fell apart. Only just managing to crest together, he followed her into the oblivion of shared orgasm and unravelled with her, stitching himself back together, his pattern entwining with hers irrevocably.

Coming down was a new kind of joy. Calm and unashamed in the aftermath, he laid beside her, skin against skin, happy to exist with her while trailing swirls and words on whatever soft, bare skin he could reach. When they settled, she pulled his head to her shoulder, sleepily murmuring that she’d always secretly loved his hair; She would remain the only person he didn’t mind playing with it.

She had one last thing to whisper, moments before sleep took them both; he didn’t realise until morning it meant she could finally see him.

“Hello.”

 

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave comments, feedback and or Kudos; I love hearing from you and it makes my day getting to have a chat with you lovely people :) 
> 
> If you liked this and you want more, I have a small bunch of other Dramione works posted you might also enjoy, along with a couple of Reylo ones (if that's your cup of tea). 
> 
> And I also have a woefully underused [tumblr](http://emilythenotsostrange.tumblr.com/) if you feel like saying Hi over there, or would like to peek at a bunch of my aesthetics, click the link :)


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